My Husband Made Me Cook For His Pregnant Mistress

I woke before dawn. The house was quiet. I dressed in the dark and went downstairs.

The kitchen was different.

Not obviously. Not at first glance. But I'd lived in this house for eight years. I knew where everything belonged.

The coffee mugs were rearranged. Tallest to shortest instead of by color. The dish towels hung on the wrong hooks. The fruit bowl had been moved from the counter to the table.

Small things. Deliberate things.

I filled the coffee maker. Pressed start. Stood at the counter while it brewed.

Footsteps on the stairs. Light. Careful.

Aylin appeared in the doorway. She wore my bathrobe. The gray one with the hood. The one I kept on the hook behind the bathroom door.

She'd rolled the sleeves up. Tied the belt snug under her belly.

"Good morning," she said brightly. "I hope you don't mind. I couldn't find mine."

She crossed to the table. Sat in the chair at the head. The one Jonathan usually took.

I poured coffee into a mug. Drank it standing.

"You've got such a lovely home," Aylin said. She ran her hand along the table's edge. "It must be so much work. Keeping it all together."

"Not really."

"Jonathan always says you're amazing at this stuff." She smiled. "Domestic things. He says he's lucky."

I said nothing.

Jonathan came downstairs. Showered. Dressed. He walked straight to the coffee pot.

Poured a cup. Carried it to the table. Set it in front of Aylin.

She looked up at him. "Thank you, sweetheart."

He kissed the top of her head. Casual. Automatic.

Then he poured his own cup. Sat down beside her.

I stood at the counter. Finished my coffee. Rinsed the mug. Set it in the dish rack.

Nobody said anything.

After breakfast, I went to the living room. Started straightening the bookshelf.

Aylin followed. She moved slowly. One hand on her belly.

She stopped in front of the shelf. Picked up a frame I'd missed last night.

Our wedding photo. The one I'd somehow overlooked in the dark.

She studied it. Tilted her head.

"You look so young," she said softly.

She set the frame down. Face-down. Flat against the wood.

Then she looked at me. Her eyes were clear. Direct.

She smiled.

Not warmly. Not cruelly. Just a smile that said: *I see you. And you see me. And we both know how this ends.*

I held her gaze. Three seconds. Four.

Then I walked outside.

The yard was small. Neat grass. A fence I'd painted two summers ago. I stood in the center of it and breathed.

The morning air was cool. The sky was pale blue. Empty.

I stood there until my face felt like my own again.

When I came back inside, Jonathan was pulling on his jacket.

"Let's go into town," he said. "Get groceries. All three of us. Make a day of it."

He said it like it was normal. Like we were a family.

Aylin appeared at the top of the stairs. She'd changed. A sundress. Yellow. It draped perfectly over her belly.

"That sounds lovely," she said.

I grabbed my purse. Followed them to the truck.

Aylin climbed into the front seat. Buckled herself in. Adjusted the mirror.

I got in the back.

Jonathan drove. Aylin sat beside him. She asked questions about the baby's nursery.

"What do you think about sage green?" she asked. "For the walls?"

"I like it," Jonathan said.

"And the crib. I saw this beautiful one online. White wood. Convertible."

"Sounds perfect."

I sat three feet behind them. Watching the back of Jonathan's head. The way Aylin's hand rested on the console between them.

Invisible.

The grocery store parking lot was half full. Jonathan parked near the entrance.

Inside, Aylin took his arm. They walked together down the produce aisle. She pointed at things. He nodded. Smiled.

I pushed the cart. Followed.

We turned into the cereal aisle.

Daniel Perkins stood near the granola. Jonathan's younger brother. Twenty-three. Fresh out of college.

I'd written three tuition checks for him. Signed them myself when Jonathan was deployed.

Daniel looked up. Saw Jonathan. Started to smile.

Then he saw Aylin. Her hand on Jonathan's arm. Her belly.

He froze.

His eyes found mine.

In his face I saw everything. The knowledge. The guilt. The pity.

He'd known.

How long? A year? More?

He opened his mouth.

Jonathan clapped him on the shoulder. Hard. Friendly.

"Danny! What are you doing here?"

"Just... shopping."

"Good to see you, man." Jonathan steered him toward the end of the aisle. Away from me. "How's the new job?"

Their voices faded.

Aylin turned to me. She picked up a box of cereal. Studied the label.

"Family's complicated," she said quietly. "Isn't it?"

I didn't answer.

She set the box in the cart. Smiled.

Jonathan and Daniel came back. Daniel wouldn't look at me.

"See you around, Danny," Jonathan said.

Daniel nodded. Walked away fast. His shoulders were tight.

I watched him go.

Understood, with absolute clarity, that everyone had known.

Mrs. Perkins. Daniel. Probably the younger sister too. Maybe the neighbors.

They'd all held their breath around me for over a year.

Waiting.

We finished shopping. Loaded the bags into the truck. Drove home in silence.

At the house, Jonathan carried the groceries inside. Aylin followed.

I stood in the driveway. Looked at the house I'd cleaned and painted and maintained for eight years.

The windows I'd washed. The shutters I'd repaired. The garden I'd planted.

It didn't feel like mine anymore.

It felt like a set. A stage.

And I was the only one still pretending the play was real.